The Lady's Second-Chance Suitor Scott, Regina (top 10 books to read .txt) 📖

“Did you, now.”

His tone must have sounded as suspicious as he felt, forBascom shuffled his feet.

“That’s what footmen do, isn’t it?” he asked plaintively.“If I’ve given some offense, my lord, I wish you would tell me. I promise you, I’ll rectify the matter.”

Rob regarded him a moment. That brown hair hung down over aforehead too furrowed for a youth. He was carrying a heavy burden as well.

“Why did you become a footman, Bascom?” he asked.

“My mum was in service,” the boy replied, chin coming up justthe slightest. “She kept the castle clean when the Howlands weren’t inresidence. She seemed content doing the work, and it was steady. And most folksaround here aren’t eager to trust me, after what my father did.”

“Smuggling,” Rob said.

He nodded. “Just so, my lord. I worked for Captain St.Claire for a time, but his jobs aren’t steady either.”

So there was a connection between those two as well. “Notsuch a good smuggler, then,” Rob observed, watching him.

Bascom’s head snapped up. “Captain St. Claire isn’t a smuggler,my lord. He’s a, that is he works for, well he has important things that needdoing. Just not often enough for me. So, I asked Mrs. Catchpole whether shecould find me a place. I thought if I impressed a visitor, he might take me offwith him when he left.” He glanced at Rob.

The fellow couldn’t know how much, and how little, he’dconfessed. “I can’t promise you further work, Bascom. That will be up to mysister. But I will be sure she knows how hard you’re trying.”

“Thank you, my lord,” he said with a grateful sigh.

“You check the lower floors,” Rob said. “I’ll check theupper.”

Bascom hesitated for just a moment, then nodded. “Very good,my lord.” He headed back down the stairs.

Rob climbed to the third story and followed the west wing tothe end, mind sorting through possibilities. Could Bascom still be in leaguewith smugglers? He’d had no choice in his father’s vocation, but he certainlyhadn’t had to throw in his lot with St. Claire. And what was that mutteredbusiness about what St. Claire was really doing out on the Channel?

He paused at the end of the wing. The window there waslashed by rain, the drops melting down the glass like quicksilver. He touchedthe pane, and cold seeped into his fingers. Squinting, he made out the shapesof the nearest trees, gaunt against a smoke-colored sky, whipping back andforth.

He started down the crooked wing. The moaning was worse herebecause of the hollow space of a ballroom below, yet he was certain he heardsomeone snoring. Lord Featherstone perhaps? Or Donner. He grinned imagining hissister’s face when he informed her that her sweetheart sounded like a herd ofcattle lowing.

In a moment between breath and moan, another soundwhispered. Sobbing?

It seemed to be coming from the room where Hester and hermother were to sleep. Though he had promised himself he would not disturb her,nothing could have stopped him from easing open the door and peering inside.

Hester had been sitting on one of the upholstered chairsnear the hearth, head in her hands. Her hair was down around her shoulders andglowing gold in the light of the coals. As the gleam from the corridor trickledinto the room, she popped to her feet to fly to him.

“Oh, Rob, I’ve been so scared! Don’t leave me!”

“Never,” Rob vowed, folding her closer. Her spiced applescent surrounded him; her trembling body warmed against his.

Oh, but his good intentions were being tested!

Chapter Sixteen

Rob’s arm pressed Hester close. His body,so firm and strong, warmed her through the nightgown. For a moment, she restedher head against his shoulder and just allowed herself to feel safe, protected,and cherished.

“There, now,” he murmured. “What frightened you so?”

“I heard a noise,” she admitted, pausing to inhale the spiceof his cologne. “A terrible crash. I thought the roof might be peeling off.”

“I’ve seen no sign of that, thank the good Lord,” he toldher. “The house seems to be holding together.”

As if to disagree with him, cracks and pops echoed down thecorridor.

She burrowed closer. “I don’t remember anything this fierce.How can the others sleep?”

He turned his head, as if eyeing her mother on the testerbed. “I don’t know. I certainly couldn’t close my eyes.”

Neither could she, or only for a moment. With the strangehouse, the odd noises, concern for her daughter, and everything that hadhappened at the dinner party, her mind was teeming.

He shifted, and all at once she was aware of how near theystood. She pulled herself out of his embrace and smoothed down the nightgown.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

She thought she heard a chuckle over the whistle of thewind. “Afraid I make a habit of strolling into a lady guest’s bedchamber?”

Her cheeks grew quite warm indeed. Mindful of her mother, shepushed him out of the room and shut the door behind her.

“Do you make a habit of it?” she challenged.

In the lamp-lit corridor, she could see him clearly. Thathair was even more tousled than usual. Her fingers positively itched to threadtheir way through it.

“No, alas,” he answered her with a rueful face. “Fatherwasn’t invited to house parties of that sort. And he wouldn’t have allowed meto attend others like it if I had been invited.”

Easy enough to say. “But there will be ladies waiting foryou in London,” Hester guessed.

“Not waiting,” he insisted. “Lying in wait more like. Young,virile, wealthy, charming viscounts are in high demand, you know.”

Hester hid her smile. “Then you certainly don’t need me tofawn over you. Or them either, I imagine. You do it quite well enough on yourown.”

“A palpable hit,” he said, touching his hand to his heart asif she had wounded him. “I could wish that you looked on me kindly, and notbecause you’re frightened by the wind.”

He looked so contrite, so proper, yet she could not forgetthe way he’d held her, as if she meant everything to him.

“Why did you invite me to dinner?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I’m told that’s what a gentleman does whenhe’s interested in furthering his acquaintance